


What Comes Around (Goes Around)

by MagnificentlyMagic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Older Stiles, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnificentlyMagic/pseuds/MagnificentlyMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is this your way of telling me to get the show on the road? Cause here I thought it was my birthday,” Stiles sighs, straightening up and inadvertently grinding his hips harder against Derek’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes Around (Goes Around)

**Author's Note:**

> So Stiles is older and in college. I'm placing him at about 21 and Derek's 26.
> 
> First time writing porn so please be gentle with me.

He runs his hands underneath Stiles’ shirt, tracing the dips at the bottom of his spine and connecting his moles from memory. The pale, soft skin shifts under his fingertips as he caresses out a pattern on the lean muscle. Derek’s slowly losing all thought process as Stiles maps out every crevice of his mouth with his tongue, his hands holding Derek’s jaw in place. Derek shifts a little on the hard wooden bench under his back, effectively dislodging Stiles from where he’s straddling Derek’s thighs.

“Is this your way of telling me to get the show on the road? Cause here I thought it was _my_ birthday,” Stiles sighs, straightening up and inadvertently grinding his hips harder against Derek’s.

“Unless you want a semi-permanent imprint of this bench in my back then you better hurry up. Or we can move this to another location,” Derek replies a bit breathlessly, the pressure on his straining dick almost too much to handle. Above him Stiles smirks, rolling his hips with purpose. Only Derek’s grip on his pelvis stops his actions.

“Alright, fine, I admit this is a little unorthodox. But c’mon. You must have had at least one locker room fantasy in all your time in high school,” Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek, not really looking for a response but watching him nonetheless. He swings his leg over Derek’s body and slides towards the floor in a graceless heap. Derek slowly sits up, stretching his back while Stiles rakes through his duffel bag.

The moonlight filers through the windows at the top of the wall bathing the room in white. From his spot on the bench Derek can clearly see the moles and beauty marks on Stiles’ milky skin. His biceps shift under his plaid shirt as he searches for his supplies.

“You do realise that they’ll be able to smell it in the morning right? They’ll know someone was here?” Derek asks softly, finally shucking his leather jacket and throwing it on the floor.

“Watch me care. Besides nobody’s going to suspect an ex-student who’s back for his birthday and a 24 year old with an inclination towards isolation,” Stiles snarks, pulling his treasures free. He holds up the baggies of weed and papers before passing them to Derek. He searches for another minute before freeing the lube and condoms from the black hole that is his bag and sitting back on the bench.

Derek watches as Stiles places the lube and condoms on the floor within arm’s reach before taking the baggies. Gently pulling out a paper Stiles shakes a considerable amount of mountain ash laced weed before deftly rolling it with long, skilled fingers. His tongue peeks out over the swell of his bottom lip as he wets the paper and seals the joint. Tossing the rest of the weed towards his bag Stiles shifts before peeking up at Derek.

“You know, if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to do this. I know I talk a big game about ‘it’s my birthday, we should do what I want’ but I don’t want to freak you out,” Stiles says softly.

“No. I want to do this. We haven’t overcome a psychotic twice-dead uncle; a kanima; an alpha pack; a banshee; a coven of rogue witches; demonic possession; hallucinogenic wolfsbane; a katsune; your father’s unyielding disapproval; breaking into our old high school and a ridiculous amount of meddling from the pack to back out now. Stiles, I’ll never be your first. But I can sure as hell be your best,” Derek watched as Stiles’ whiskey eyes softened intimately before he rolled them at the last statement.

“Okay then,” Stiles nodded before pulling a zippo from his jeans pocket. Placing the joint between his lips Stiles flicked open the lighter and lit it. Derek watched as Stiles pulled the smoke into his lungs before slowly exhaling through his nose. The smell burned a little and set Derek’s nerves on edge.

The mountain ash, however terrifying to Derek, was completely safe.

Stiles had researched.

Extensively.

Derek watches as Stiles’ jaw goes slack and his eyes take on a glassy look.

Thanks to early teenage years of sneaking around with Scott and a stoner roommate at college Stiles was basically an expert on weed.

His long fingers flick the ash onto the tile floor before lifting the joint back to his mouth and taking another drag. This time though, he doesn’t inhale it. Derek watches as Stiles slowly leans forward and fits his mouth over Derek’s. Derek parts his lips and accepts the smoke offered. Breathing deeply against the mountain ash panic he brings the smoke into his lungs.

It’s… nice. Huh. Sort of feels like he’s floating. He watches as Stiles takes another drag and does the same thing again. This time though, there’s no panic. It’s just… bliss.

Derek lets out a giggle at his own thoughts. He can’t stop but somehow he doesn’t even want to.

“Totally mellow, right? I am not a stoner, or a drug addict, or a junkie, or a stoner, or, wait, did I say that already. I think I said that already. What was I saying? Oh right, _not_ a stoner, but this stuff rocks every once in a while, like, just to mellow you, and I gotta say you look ridiculously beautiful right now, no less than you usually do but this time you’re relaxed enough to enjoy it, just. You’re devine Derek. _Devine_ ,” Stiles breathes the words, his gaze unflinching on Derek.

Derek reaches out and pushes what’s left of the joint into Stiles’ mouth, watching the way his lips mold themselves to the shape. A jolt ignites all of Derek’s nerve endings, sending a surge to his dick. The joint reaches the filter so Stiles stubs it out before lurching forward towards Derek’s mouth. As soon as their lips lock the smoke filters between them until they’re just passing it back and forth, breathing each other’s air.

Stiles eyes slowly open and focus in on Derek’s. That’s the last straw.

Derek surges forward and captures Stiles’ mouth with his own, licking over his bottom lip before pushing past them. His hands move of their own accord and grip Siles’ hips so hard they’ll probably have bruises. The drugs make his head a little hazy but every nerve ending in his body is on fire, thrumming under his skin, making his hunger for Stiles become insatiable.

Derek revels in the moan Stiles releases when Derek kisses along his jaw, biting down on his ear lobe. His hands run along Derek’s shoulders, one wrapping around his neck, the other raking through his hair, fisting his fingers in the softness. Derek sucks a hickey into the junction between Stiles’ neck and his shoulder while his fingers push the shirt off of his shoulders. It hits the ground with a barely audible swish, swiftly followed by Stiles’ t-shirt.

Derek’s hands grip tighter into Stiles’ hipbones as he pulls him to straddle him once more. Stiles spreads his legs across Derek’s thighs and arches his back when their dicks grind against each other. Derek pulls back enough to gaze into Stiles’ blown pupils, the whiskey brown almost completely enveloped by black. Without breaking eye contact Stiles runs his hands down Derek’s neck, along his shoulders, tracing the skin of his arms until finally he slips them under the hem. Slowly pushing the material up until every inch of skin is revealed, Stiles presses closer.

Derek, even in his hazy state becomes impatient, yanks the Henley the rest of the way up, up and off until it joins Stiles’ shirts on the floor. Moaning Stiles kisses Derek’s again, devouring his mouth. Derek shifts forward until Stiles is the one on his back, Derek between his legs. Stiles squirms until his shoes hit the floor with a loud thud in the silence of the locker room, his socks going with them.

His head bangs back against the bench as Derek slips his fingers past the waistband of his jeans as his mouth slowly makes a path down his chest. Derek licks the creamy flesh, tasting Stiles, the body wash he uses, the sweat from throughout the day, the barely there hint of Derek’s own skin. He nips and sucks his way down Stiles’ body until he reaches the patch of hair that leads into his boxers. Thumbing the button Derek looks up for reassurance.

“I want you to, god, you know I want you to. Come on, _do something_ , _please_ ,” Stiles pleads breathlessly.

Derek wastes no time then popping the button of Stiles’ jeans and pulling them slowly over the muscles of his thighs, muscles that he’s gained from his place on his college’s track team. He slides them down and over the tribal band tattoo on his left calf, all the way off until the join the discarded clothes on the floor.

The black of Stiles’ underwear stands stark against the paleness of his skin, making him seem almost ethereal; exquisite.

Derek slides them off too, listening to the hitches in Stiles’ breathing and the pounding of his heart. With his dick free, Stiles squirms, trying to find some friction to grind against. Derek stops him with a calloused hand on the soft skin of his inner thigh. Trailing kisses from his knee, up the soft skin of his thigh and into the divot of his hipbone Derek listens to the soft gasps coming from Stiles.

Derek leans forward, slowly trailing his lips up the length of Stiles, softly touching his lips to the underside of Stiles’ dick. Stiles full on whimpers above him, arms thrown above his head, gripping on to the hard wood of the bench. Derek opens his mouth and envelops Stiles in the wet heat.

“Derek, oh my god,” Stiles gasps out above him, out of breath and panting.

Derek moves his mouth further down Stiles’ dick, his tongue swirling under the head. Stiles keens above him. Derek presses the heel of one of his hands into his own dick to stop himself from coming too soon.

Stiles hand fists in his hair pulling him up and off. Derek looks up confused until he sees the raw hunger in Stiles’ eyes. Derek shuffles forward until he can reach Stiles mouth, kissing him thoroughly. He bites down softly of Stiles’ bottom lip, his tongue following right after. He traces over the swell of that bottom lip before sitting up again. He stands up and shucks his jeans, tossing them into the pile. The boxer briefs he had on can barely cover his straining erection.

He can feel Stiles’ eyes on him when he drops his underwear and bends down to retrieve the lube and a condom.

“This is your show, how d’you want it?” Derek’s voice breaks the silence of the locker room as he blinks at Stiles.

“Ugh, well, I’d really like it if you fucked me,” Stiles answered, a faint blush colouring his face, “And then tomorrow when I’m thoroughly fucked and stretched and sore, then maybe I can return the favour?” Stiles bites his bottom lip as he gazes up at Derek.

Derek nearly trips over his own pants in his haste to get nearer to Stiles. Planting his bare ass on the bench Derek hauls Stiles closer by his calves, spreading his legs wide and around Derek’s hips. Stiles pushes up onto his elbows to get closer to Derek, their mouths clashing almost violently.

Derek traces his left hand along Stiles’ thigh, up until he reaches his chest. Thumbing over a pink nipple, Derek traces the moles dotted on Stiles’ skin. When he moves over to the other nipple Stiles pulls his lips away with a loud gasp, falling back until his back is flat on the bench.

Derek leans forward and kisses just above Stiles’ belly button, dipping his tongue in briefly before dropping kisses on to the patch of hair under his navel.

Derek coats his right hand in lube before dropping it next to him on the floor. Warming it between his fingers first, he spread Stiles legs wider until his pucker becomes visible. Lightly dragging his fingers down across Stiles’ balls until they meet his hole, Derek barely breathes.

Stiles thighs tremble under his touch as Derek slowly pushes the pad of his thumb past the tight ring of muscle. Stiles whimpers again, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Replacing the pad of his thumb with his index finger Derek slowly pushes in. When Stiles keens, Derek freezes, unable to decipher his body’s reactions.

“It’s good Derek, keep going, please, _more_ ,” Stiles pleads again.

 Derek slowly thrusts his finger in and out until he’s sure it doesn’t hurt anymore. He pulls his finger out entirely only to replace one with two. As he slowly pushes them in his other hand traces patterns on the pale expanse of skin on offer. A faint flush travels down from Stiles’ face, all along his torso until it fades into his pelvis.

Derek thrusts his fingers continuously as he watches Stiles’ dick leak precome onto his belly. He leans forward to lick at it and Stiles cries out softly. Scissoring his fingers slightly, Derek kisses along Stiles’ hip bone.

“Another one Derek,” Stiles demands, still with his eyes closed.

Derek complies and pushes a third finger in, thrusting slowly like with the other two. Watching Stiles come undone beneath him Derek could almost forget about his own erection. It’s only when Stiles starts thrusting back onto his fingers and accidentally brushes the head of his dick does Derek remember. Stiles must hear his sharp intake of breath because his eyes snap open and lock on Derek’s face. He nods once, his eyes black pools of want and desire.

Derek pulls his fingers free completely before rolling on a condom and coating his dick in lube. Lying almost his entire body on top of Stiles, Derek lines himself up at Stiles entrance. A swift glance up show Stiles watching intently, silently urging Derek on.

Slowly, gently, Derek pushes into Stiles. His hands grip Stiles’ waist as his dick pushes into his body. The muscles in Stiles’ abdomen tense and clench while the rest of him trembles. Once Derek is flush against Stiles’ ass he stops to collect himself and allow Stiles time to adjust.

Derek lifts his arms up and places his forearms on either side of Stiles’ face, framing the perfect look on his face. Stiles digs his fingers into the muscles of Derek’s back and his legs wrap around Derek almost involuntarily.

Derek starts to thrust shallowly, not once taking his eyes off Stiles’. Only once Stiles starts rolling his hips up and meeting his thrusts does Derek start to speed up.

Thrusting steadily Derek leans down and kisses Stiles once on the nose, then on each cheek, before finally returning to his lips. His lips are soft and pliant, spit slick and red as cherries. Stiles digs his fingers harder into Derek’s back prompting him to move a little faster.

Stiles breaks away from the kiss moaning, throwing his head back. With every thrust Derek is rubbing against Stiles’ dick and coating both their bellies in precome. From the angle of Stiles’ head Derek can place kisses all along his neck, biting softly and leaving mini hickies.

Urging his hips faster, Derek sits up slightly, pulling Stiles with him. Stiles surges up suddenly, nearly forcing Derek out of him. Using both hands Stiles pushes at Derek’s shoulders until he understands. Leaning back slowly so Derek is lying flat on his back bring them back to the position they started in. Stiles seats himself fully on Derek’s dick, pushing both palms into Derek’s pecs for leverage.

From this position Stiles feet touch the ground, giving him more momentum. Derek can feel a fire starting in the pit of his belly and he clenches his hands around Stiles hips, encouraging him to go faster. He moves one hand to grasp Stiles’ dick, a firm believer in coming together, and works his hand up and down, smearing precome over the head and twisting his wrist.

Stiles’ thrusts become more erratic and his fingers clench tighter in Derek’s skin. He gasps through his orgasm, painting himself and Derek in white. Stiles clenches around him in his pleasure and Derek lets go, throwing his head back and moaning low in his throat, jaw lax in ecstasy.

Stiles slumps on top of him, breathing uneven and chest sticky. They lay like that a while, Stiles planting kisses onto Derek’s chest every now and again while Derek runs his hands down Stiles’ back, tracing the curve of his spine.

Eventually Stiles sits up and lets Derek out of him. He winces slightly before pulling the condom off Derek and standing up to put it in the bin. Derek twists up and turns to watch Stiles. His eyes zero in on the marks on his skin, the marks he made.

Stiles smiles softly back at him as he stumbles over to the showers. Turning one on he yelps slightly at the cold water.  Derek smirks and goes to join him under the water. Stiles pulls him closer, running his hands along the slippery wet of his skin, planting kisses through the spray along his collarbone. Straightening up so they’re the same height Stiles nuzzles against Derek’s face and slowly kisses his jaw.

Derek pulls him out once Stiles starts to shiver. They get dressed quietly and pack everything up into Stiles duffle bag. Grabbing his hand Derek pulls Stiles out towards the parking lot. The Camaro sits black as the night itself, beckoning them over. He drives them back to his apartment where they lose almost all their clothes as soon as they walk in the door.

Sitting on the counter is a single cupcake with a note from Erica stating she hopes they were safe, Stiles you _will_ give her all the details later and there’s whipped cream in the fridge if they feel so inclined. Derek smiles fondly while Stiles rolls his eyes.

Padding over to Stiles jeans Derek pulls out the zippo and lights the candle in the cupcake.

“Happy birthday Stiles,” Derek says, kissing him once, softly, on the lips before holding out the cupcake, “Make a wish.”

“I don’t have to,” Stiles replies before blowing out the candle.  


End file.
